When A Playboy Loves

|| 41.

King

One. Two. Three. Four. My biceps swelled with the rise and fall of the dumbbells in each hand. Sweat formed under my armpit, going on to create a wet patch in the middle of my shirt. Exercises were no fun.

Veins appeared on my wrists, tracing a path up my upper arm before disappearing into the sleeves of my vest and my muscles screamed in protest when I continued counting after forty. Ten more to go.

The music playing from the speakers I had connected to my phone changed to Wizkid's Joro as I finished the last of the bicep curls. The floor to ceiling mirrors that covered a part of the wall inside Junior's home gym showed me in my black, loose short which was worn over long leggings of the same colour, grey vest with my tiny man nipples poking out and lastly, my Adidas sneakers.

After returning the dumbbells to their original position, I took a swig from my flask, grabbed my phone and strolled to the parlour where I was greeted by the click-click sound of Junior's fingers as it ran rapidly over the keyboard of his MacBook pro. His eyes were glued to the screen and he was typing as if his life depended on it.

I announced my presence by plopping on the single sofa opposite his, mirroring his cross-legged position with my arms on the handrest. "I'm bored."

His parlour was nearly the same size as mine with the walls coated in much more vibrant colours. When he didn't respond, I murmured something under my breath about Software developers and always pretending to be busy. What's he typing?

Junior only raised his head slightly from the laptop that was perched on his thighs. "Guy, you are disturbing my life. Be quiet."

"Do you have a life?" I fired back. When he kept quiet, I asked, "How far that thing?"

"Which thing?" His head whipped in my direction before a look of understanding crossed his face and he said, "Almost done."

His fingers moved faster on his keyboard and my presence was soon forgotten. I grabbed the remote, switched on his large TV that was propped on the wooden stand. Surfing the channels didn't take long because nothing of interest was showing. I was fucking bored out of my mind.

"I'm bored," I repeated.

"Call Uti."

A smile found its way to my lips and I felt that familiar squeeze of my heart. She was probably bent over a sewing machine, doing wonders on a piece of material that would blow its owner's mind off. I would have given anything to be around her while she worked but a part of me knew she wouldn't be getting any work done except it was a certain job that involved her soft lips or hands wrapped around an eager part of me. That was if she wouldn't mind doing it.

I missed her so much even though we saw yesterday. Hell, I would be more than satisfied with us sitting quietly in the same space, basking in each other's presence.

Uti was my new addiction, a quench to a thirst I never knew plagued me.

We were supposed to meet in the evening and time had slowed down. I spent over an hour in Junior's gym only for my phone to show me it was actually thirty minutes. With four weeks of free time, I wanted to spend every moment with her, Emma and Esther, creating new, pleasant memories.

"She's busy," I finally murmured, my voice taking on a sad edge. I missed her.

Junior huffed, placed his laptop by the side and stretched his legs. He moved to the TV stand, connected the PlayStation and threw a gamepad without looking at me. The pad hit my forehead and when I called his attention to it, he only shrugged. Idiot.

As always, he picked Chelsea while I changed my team to Barcelona. None of us spoke again until he scored a goal. To be honest, I wasn't paying much attention to the game, I was only playing to pass time.